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The First BookChapter III.
Chapter III.
Wherein Is Recounted the Pleasant Manner Observed in the Knighting of Don
Quixote
And being thus tossed in mind, he made a short, beggarly supper; which
being finished, he called for his host, and, shutting the stable door very
fast, he laid himself down upon his knees in it before him, saying, `I will
never rise from the place where I am, valorous knight, until your courtesy
shall grant unto me a boon that I mean to demand of you, the which will
redound unto your renown, and also to the profit of all human kind.` The
innkeeper seeing his guest at his feet, and hearing him speak those words,
remained confounded beholding him, not knowing what he might do or say, and
did study and labour to make him arise; but all was in vain, until he must
have promised unto him that he would grant him any gift that he sought at his
hands. "I did never expect less,` replied Don Quixote, `from your
magnificence, my lord; and therefore I say unto you, that the boon which I
demand of you, and that hath been granted unto me by your liberality, is, that
to-morrow, in the morning, you will dub me knight, and this night I will
watch mine armour in the chapel of your castle, and in the morning, as I have
said, the rest of my desires shall be accomplished, that I may go in due
manner throughout the four parts of the world, to seek adventures, to the
benefit of the needy, as is the duty of knighthood, and of knights-errant,
as I am; whose desires are wholly inclined and dedicated to such
achievements.` The host, who, as we noted before, was a great giber, and had
before gathered some arguments of the defect of wit in his guest, did wholly
now persuade himself that his suspicions were true, when he heard him speak in
that manner; and that he might have an occasion of laughter, he resolved to
feed his humour that night; and therefore answered him, that he had very great
reason in that which he desired and sought, and that such projects were proper
and natural to knights of the garb and worth he seemed to be of; and that he
himself likewise, in his youthful years, had followed that honourable
exercise, going through divers parts of the world to seek adventures, without
either omitting the dangers of Malaga, the Isles of Riaran, the compass of
Seville, the quicksilver house of Segovia, the olive field of Valencia, the
circuit of Granada, the wharf of St. Lucar, the Potro or Cowlt of Cordova, and
the little taverns of Toledo; and many other places, wherein he practised the
dexterity of his hands; doing many wrongs, soliciting many widows, undoing
certain maidens, and deceiving many pupils, and finally making himself known
and famous in all the tribunals and courts almost of all Spain; and that at
last he had retired himself to that his castle, where he was sustained with
his own and other men`s goods, entertaining in it all knights-errant, of
whatsoever quality and condition they were, only for the great affection he
bore towards them, and to the end they might divide with him part of their
winnings in recompense of his goodwill. He added besides, that there was no
chapel in his castle wherein he might watch his arms, for he had broken it
down, to build it up anew; but, notwithstanding, he knew very well that in a
case of necessity they might lawfully be watched in any other place, and
therefore he might watch them that night in the base-court of the castle;
for in the morning, an it pleased God, the ceremonies requisite should be done
in such sort as he should remain a dubbed knight, in so good fashion as in all
the world he could not be bettered. He demanded of Don Quixote whether he had
any money; who answered that he had not a blank, for he had never read in any
history of knights-errant that any one of them ever carried any money. To
this his host replied, that he was deceived; for, admit that histories made no
mention thereof, because the authors of them deemed it not necessary to
express a thing so manifest and needful to be carried as was money and clean
shirts, it was not therefore to be credited that they had none; and therefore
he should hold, for most certain and manifest, that all the knights-errant,
with the story of whose acts so many books are replenished and heaped, had
their purses well lined for that which might befall, and did moreover carry
with them a little casket of ointments and salves, to cure the wounds which
they received, for they had not the commodity of a surgeon to cure them, every
time that they fought abroad in the fields and deserts, if they had not by
chance some wise enchanter to their friend, who would presently succour them,
bringing unto them, in some cloud, through the air, some damsel or dwarf, with
a vial of water of so great virtue, as tasting one drop thereof, they remained
as whole of their sores and wounds as if they had never received any. But when
they had not that benefit, the knights of times past held it for a very
commendable and secure course that their squires should be provided of money
and other necessary things, as lint and ointments for to cure themselves; and
when it befell that the like knights had no squires to attend upon them (which
happened but very seldom), then would they themselves carry all this provision
behind them on their horses, in some slight and subtle wallets, which could
scarce be perceived as a thing of very great consequence; for, if it were not
upon such an occasion, he carriage of wallets was not very tolerable among
knights-errant. And in this respect he did advise him, seeing he might yet
command him, as one that, by receiving the order of knighthood at his hands,
should very shortly become his godchild, that he should not travel from
thenceforward without money and other the preventions he had then given unto
him; and he should perceive himself how behooveful they would prove unto him
when he least expected it.
Don Quixote promised to accomplish all that he had counselled him to do,
with all punctuality; and so order was forthwith given how he should watch his
arms in a great yard that lay near unto one side of the inn. Wherefore Don
Quixote gathered all his arms together, laid them on a cistern that stood near
unto a well; and, buckling on his target, he laid hold on his lance, and
walked up and down before the cistern very demurely, and when he began to
walk, the night likewise began to lock up the splendour of the day. The
innkeeper, in the mean season, recounted to all the rest that lodged in the
inn the folly of his guest, the watching of his arms, and the knighthood which
he expected to receive. They all admired very much at so strange a kind of
folly, and went out to behold him from afar off, and saw that sometimes he
pranced to and fro with a quiet gesture; other times, leaning upon his lance,
he looked upon his armour, without beholding any other thing save his arms for
a good space.
The night being shut up at last wholly, but with such clearness of the
moon as it might well compare with his brightness that lent her her splendour,
everything which our new knight did was easily perceived by all the beholders.
In this season one of the carriers that lodged in the inn resolved to water
his mules, and for that purpose it was necessary to remove Don Quixote`s
armour that lay on the cistern; who, seeing him approach, said unto him, with
a loud voice, `O thou, whosoever thou beest, bold knight! that comest to touch
the armour of the most valorous adventurer that ever girded sword, look well
what thou dost, and touch them not, if thou meanest not to leave thy life in
payment of thy presumption.` The carrier made no account of those words (but
it were better he had, for it would have redounded to his benefit), but
rather, laying hold on the leatherings, threw the armour a pretty way off from
him, which being perceived by Don Quixote, he lifted up his eyes towards
heaven, and addressing his thoughts (as it seemed) to his Lady Dulcinea, he
said, `Assist me, dear lady, in this first dangerous scorn and adventure
offered to this breast, that is enthralled to thee, and let not thy favour and
protection fail me in this my first trance!` And, uttering these and other
such words, he let slip his target, and, lifting up his lance with bold hands,
he paid the carrier so round a knock therewithal on the pate, as he overthrew
him to the ground in so evil taking, as, if he had seconded it with another,
he should not have needed any surgeon to cure him. This done, he gathered up
his armour again, and laying them where they had been before, he walked after
up and down by them, with as much quietness as he did at the first.
But very soon after, another carrier, without knowing what had happened
(for his companion lay yet in a trance on the ground), came also to give his
mules water, and coming to take away the arms, that he might free the cistern
of encumbrances, and take water the easier - Don Quixote saying nothing nor
imploring favour of his mistress or any other, let slip again his target, and,
lifting his lance, without breaking of it in pieces, made more than three of
the second carrier`s noddle; for he broke it in four places. All the people of
the inn, and amongst them the host likewise, repaired at this time to the
noise; which Don Quixote perceiving, embracing his target, and laying hand on
his sword, he said: `O lady of all beauty! courage and vigour of my weakened
heart! it is now high time that thou do convert the eyes of thy greatness to
this thy captive knight, who doth expect so marvellous great an adventure.`
Saying thus, he recovered, as he thought, so great courage, that if all the
carriers of the world had assailed him, he would not go one step backward. The
wounded men`s fellows, seeing them so evil dight, from afar off began to rain
stones on Don Quixote, who did defend himself the best he might with his
target, and durst not depart from the cistern, lest he should seem to abandon
his arms. The innkeeper cried to them to let him alone; for he had already
informed them that he was mad, and so such a one would escape scot-free
although he had slain them all. Don Quixote likewise cried out louder, terming
them all disloyal men and traitors, and that the lord of the castle was a
treacherous and bad knight, seeing that he consented that knights-errant
should be so basely used; and that, if he had not yet received the order of
knighthood, he would make him understand his treason: `But of you base and
rascally kennel,` quoth he, `I make no reckoning at all. Throw at me,
approach, draw near, and do me all the hurt you may, for you shall ere long
perceive the reward you shall carry for this your madness and outrage.` Which
words he spoke with so great spirit and boldness, as he struck a terrible fear
into all those that assaulted him; and therefore, moved both by it, and the
innkeeper`s persuasions, they left off throwing stones at him, and he
permitted them to carry away the wounded men, and returned to the guard of his
arms with as great quietness and gravity as he did at the beginning.
[See Shower Of Stones: Feeling a shower of stones come thick upon him he
turned Rozinante about, and got out from among them.]
The innkeeper did not like very much these tricks of his guest, and
therefore he determined to abbreviate, and give him the unfortunate order of
knighthood forthwith, before some other disaster befel. And with this
resolution coming unto him, he excused himself of the insolences those base
fellows had used to him, without his privity or consent; but their rashness,
as he said, remained well chastised. He added how he had already told unto
him, that there was no chapel in his castle, and that for what yet rested
unperfected of their intention, it was not necessary, because the chief point
of remaining knighted consisted chiefly in blows of the neck and shoulders, as
he had read in the ceremonial book of the order, and that might be given in
the very midst of the fields; and that he had already accomplished the
obligation of watching his arms, which with only two hours` watch might be
fulfilled; how much more after having watched four, as he had done. All this
Don Quixote believed, and therefore answered, that he was most ready to obey
him, and requested him to conclude with all the brevity possible; for if he
saw himself knighted, and were once again assaulted, he meant not to leave one
person alive in all the castle, except those which the constable should
command, whom he would spare for his sake.
The constable being thus advertised, and fearful that he would put this
his deliberation in execution, brought out a book presently, wherein he was
wont to write down the accounts of the straw and barley which he delivered
from time to time to such carriers as lodged in his inn, for their beasts;
and, with a butt of a candle, which a boy held lighted in his hand before him,
accompanied by the two damsels above mentioned, he came to Don Quixote, whom
he commanded to kneel upon his knees, and, reading in his manual (as it
seemed, some devout orison), he held up his hand in the midst of the lecture,
and gave him a good blow on the neck, and after that gave him another trim
thwack over the shoulders with his own sword, always murmuring something
between the teeth, as if he prayed. This being done, he commanded one of the
ladies to gird on his sword, which she did with a singular good grace and
dexterity, which was much, the matter being of itself so ridiculous, as it
wanted but little to make a man burst with laughter at every passage of the
ceremonies; but the prowess which they had already beheld in the new knight
did limit and contain their delight. At the girding on of his sword, the good
lady said, `God make you a fortunate knight, and give you good success in all
your debates!` Don Quixote demanded then how she was called, that he might
thenceforward know to whom he was so much obliged for the favour received. And
she answered, with great buxomness, that she was named Tolosa, and was a
butcher`s daughter of Toledo, that dwelt in Sancho Benega`s Street, and that
she would ever honour him as her lord. Don Quixote replied, requesting her,
for his sake, to call herself from thenceforth the Lady Tolosa, which she
promised him to perform. The other lady buckled on his spur, with whom he had
the very like conference, and, asking her name, she told him she was called
Molinera, and was daughter to an honest miller of Antequera. Her likewise our
knight entreated to call herself the Lady Molinera, proffering her new
services and favours. The new and never-seen-before ceremonies being thus,
speedily finished, as it seemed, with a gallop, Don Quixote could not rest
until he was mounted on horseback, that he might go to seek adventures;
wherefore, causing Rozinante to be instantly saddled, he leaped on him, and
embracing his host, he said unto him such strange things, gratifying the
favour he had done him in dubbing him knight, as it is impossible to hit upon
the manner of recounting them right. The innkeeper, that he might be quickly
rid of him, did answer his words with others no less rhetorical, but was in
his speech somewhat briefer; and, without demanding of him anything for his
lodging, he suffered him to depart in a fortunate hour.
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